


All Thoughts of Greatness

by whereismygarden



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiva survives the attack on Destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Thoughts of Greatness

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to go along with canon somewhat, I'll decide what to change as I go along. There will be POV cameos from most everyone, but Kiva's is going to be the main one.

                Kiva woke up to an excruciating pain in her chest and stomach. She wasn’t even sure she was awake, because she couldn’t open her eyes and she couldn’t hear anything, or feel anything except the agony in her torso. This was the kind of pain that came with a mortal wound. The only thing she was aware of was the ragged feeling in her lungs and throat, the sensation of being close to suffocating.

                She woke again at the distant sound of firearms, and the sound of a gate dialing, eyes betraying her, refusing to focus, leaving her vision a mess of gray and golden blurs. The pain in her stomach and chest had not lessened, and she was exhausted, every breath painful.

                The third time she woke she was far more lucid, and in far less pain. She ached all over, and the wounds burned and throbbed, but not so much. She realized she was lying in a bed of some kind, propped upright with boards and pillows, and manacled at the wrists. Her mouth was painfully dry, but she could see, in the back of her hand, a clear line, for fluids. Fluids and who knew what else.

                The bronze color of the room made it clear she was still on Destiny—and where else could she be?—but the chains on her wrists meant the Alliance was no longer in control. Either that, or one of the others had seized power, but which of them would be stupid enough to let her live? Unless he meant to execute her publicly later. She would have rather died of the wounds that were tied up with neat cloth than fall at the hands of one of her own.

                That thought led her to Telford: hopefully he had died of his wound, the snake. She was sure she had hit him. She turned her head: there was only wall to her right, and the room she was in was quiet. Definitely the sickroom on Destiny: lights and beds and sterilizable metal tables, and counters full of jars. Experimentally, she tugged at the chain on her left wrist. It would be hard, if not impossible to drag her hand out of it.

                The Tau’ri did not kill their prisoners, generally. But they were on a ship with few resources, so she couldn’t count on that. How many of her people were left? And how capable of taking back Destiny? That she had been unconscious for whatever had happened was a problem, especially if she would remain isolated in the sickroom. There were no other patients of the Alliance: no other patients at all.

                She could not leave this bed, despite the fact that her stomach was a gnawing pit, and her mouth dry. Her boots and jacket were gone: in fact, she was wearing Tau’ri clothes. She couldn’t see under the blankets, but her hardy leather trousers were gone, replaced with soft fabric. Her upper body was covered in bandages and what remained of her shirt, both stiff with bloodstains. She didn’t like that they had taken her clothes, not at all. It made her feel vulnerable in a way that being wounded didn’t, and she did not respond well to feeling vulnerable.

                She fell back into sleep, but something told her that only a short time had passed before she was woken by the sound of one of Destiny’s doors. Kiva opened her eyes a little, tracking the blonde woman—Destiny’s pregnant medic—as she stepped inside, setting down a jug of something onto a table. Then she looked over at Kiva.

                She had the sense to lie still, not move her eyes, but the woman sensed she was awake, and started in her direction. Kiva opened her eyes, meeting the medic’s guarded blue-green eyes with a flat stare. The woman didn't seem perturbed.

                “How do you feel?” she asked, touching her hand where the line went in: checking it, maybe, but it turned Kiva’s stomach.

                “Better when you’re not doing that,” she said.

                “I used up a lot of good painkiller on you,” the medic said, raising an eyebrow. She was in a shirt that was clearly not originally hers, big enough to go over her pregnant belly, and in uniform pants. A pregnant warrior would not be permitted in the Alliance, but maybe she hadn’t known before they arrived, or had fallen pregnant since. Kiva hardly knew anything about having children, but this woman looked ready to go any day: she was bigger than any pregnant mother Kiva had seen in her childhood.

                “That was your own choice,” Kiva replied, mouth sticking, smacking a little. The woman turned, walked away, and came back with a metal cup of water. She held it close to Kiva’s lips, and the tug of the chains on her wrists reminded her that she couldn’t use her own hands.

                “I can’t release you yet,” the medic said, not sounding apologetic, but with something understanding in her eyes about how humiliating this was. Kiva pressed her lips together. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

                “One hand,” she demanded.

                “I’ll let you soothe your thirst with your pride, then.” The cup was set down with a firm click, out of her reach. Kiva couldn’t keep her eyes from following it, but she was damned if she let go of her dignity. She’d never had anything, and of all the things she’d clawed and fought and lied and killed to get, that was one she meant to hold onto for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Midlake's "Bring Down."


End file.
